No More Learning

"
"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear? "
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
"O Oysters, come and walk with us! "
The Walrus did beseech.


## p. 3316 (#290) ###########################################

3316
LEWIS CARROLL
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each. "
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head —
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more -
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
―――
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes- and ships-and sealing wax
Of cabbages-and kings-
And why the sea is boiling hot-
And whether pigs have wings. "
"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat! "
"No hurry! " said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
―――――


## p. 3317 (#291) ###########################################

LEWIS CARROLL
3317
"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar beside
Are very good indeed -
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed. "
"But not on us! " the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do! "
"The night is fine," the Walrus said:
"Do you admire the view? "
"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice! "
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf —
I've had to ask you twice! "
"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick! "
The Carpenter said nothing but -
"The butter's spread too thick! "
"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize. "
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again? "
But answer came there none-
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.
-


## p. 3318 (#292) ###########################################

3318
LEWIS CARROLL
THE BAKER'S TALE
From The Hunting of the Snark
HEY roused him with muffins-they roused him with ice-
THE They roused him with mustard and cress-
They roused him with jam and judicious advice —
They set him conundrums to guess.
When at length he sat up and was able to speak,
His sad story he offered to tell;
And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek! "
And excitedly tingled his bell.
There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,
Scarcely even a howl or a groan,
As the man they called "Ho! " told his story of woe
In an antediluvian tone.
"My father and mother were honest, though poor—»
"Skip all that! " cried the Bellman in haste.
"If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark —
We have hardly a minute to waste! "
"I skip forty years," said the Baker, in tears,
"And proceed without further remark
To the day when you took me aboard of your ship
To help you in hunting the Snark.
"A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)
Remarked when I bade him farewell—»
"Oh, skip your dear uncle! " the Bellman exclaimed,
As he angrily tingled his bell.
"He remarked to me then," said that mildest of men,-
"If your Snark be a Snark that is right,
Fetch it home by all means you may serve it with greens,
And it's handy for striking a light.
-
--
"You may seek it with thimbles- and seek it with care;
You may hunt it with forks and hope;
You may threaten its life with a railway share;
You may charm it with smiles and soap — › »
(That's exactly the method," the Bellman bold
In a hasty parenthesis cried: -
"That's exactly the way I have always been told
That the capture of Snarks should be tried! ")


## p. 3319 (#293) ###########################################

LEWIS CARROLL
3319
"But oh, beamish nephew! beware of the day
If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again! '
"It is this, it is this, that oppresses my soul
When I think of my uncle's last words;
And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl
Brimming over with quivering curds!
"It is this, it is this"
"We have had that before! "
The Bellman indignantly said.
And the Baker replied: "Let me say it once more;
It is this, it is this that I dread!
-
"I engage with the Snark every night after dark—
In a dreamy delirious fight;
I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes,
And I use it for striking a light:
"But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,
In a moment (of this I am sure),
I shall softly and silently vanish away-
And the notion I cannot endure! "
-
YOU ARE OLD, FATHER WILLIAM
From Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'
"You
ou are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head-
Do you think, at your age, it is right? "
"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again. "
"You are old," said the youth, «< as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door-
Pray what is the reason of that? "
-
"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple


## p. 3320 (#294) ###########################################

LEWIS CARROLL
3320
By the use of this ointment-one shilling the box-
Allow me to sell you a couple. "
"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak:
Pray, how did you manage to do it? ".
"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life. "
"You are old," said the youth; "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever:
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose —
What made you so awfully clever? "
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down-stairs! "


## p. 3321 (#295) ###########################################

3321
YO
CASANOVA
(JEAN JACQUES CASANOVA DE SEINGALT)
(1725-1803)
HE unique figure of Casanova stands out as a type of all that
was most vicious and most brilliant in the eighteenth cen-
tury. The pre-revolutionary philosophies, filtering through
society, were weakening religious restraints and producing a hypo-
critical conformity to tradition and a new uncertainty which inclined
people to present enjoyment and epicureanism. But even the court
aristocracy, to whom self-indulgence was the rule of life, were
astounded at the unrestraint of Casanova's pleasure-seeking. He pro-
fessed himself a Christian, but during all his vicious career was
never influenced by a conscientious scruple. In a period when social
graces were extolled above all others, when conversation was culti-
vated as a fine art, and when the salon was perhaps the greatest
power in France, he was pre-eminent for talent and charm. His
physical beauty fascinated both men and women; his fearlessness,
often running into a mad bravado which lost no chance to fight,
won him the respect of men. He could be witty in many tongues;
he was an adept in fashionable fads of the day; was supposed to
have a gift for mesmerism, and to be something of a sorcerer.
He could adapt himself to any society, appearing both as the idol
of European courts and a boon companion in low taverns. He had
countless duels and love affairs, and concluded one after another
with the same cynical heartlessness: always a gay soldier of fortune,
experimenting with his various talents; now a diplomat, now an
abbé or popular preacher, and now a writer of political essays.
When Casanova's father, a man of gentle birth, became an actor
and married a pretty actress, Zanetta Farusi, the daughter of an
Italian shoemaker, he hopelessly alienated his family. Jean-Jacques,
their first child, was born in Venice, and during their professional
travels was left there with his grandmother. Her earnest desire was
to educate the beautiful and precocious child; and she economized
from her scanty means until she was able to send him to the Semi-
nary of Saint Cyprian in Venice. He passed his entrance examina-
tions, and studied there for a time, exhibiting unusual ability. Then
at sixteen he was expelled for a disgraceful intrigue, which would
have consigned him to prison but for his mother, whose influence
secured him the protection of Cardinal Acquaviva and a position in
his household, which the boy soon resigned for a gayer life.


## p. 3322 (#296) ###########################################

3322
CASANOVA
After this came a long series of adventurous years, during which
he visited Rome, Naples, Constantinople, and other places, and was
admitted to many orders of chivalry. During these wanderings he
became acquainted with Rousseau and Voltaire; visited the court of
Frederick the Great; went to Russia, where he was smiled upon by
the Empress Catharine II. At Versailles, where he was a familiar
figure, Louis XV. honored him with a personal interview. But even
in a society disposed to be lenient to any one who was amusing,
Casanova incurred disgrace. After becoming notorious over Europe
as a trickster at cards, and for his dissipations, he returned to Ven-
ice in 1755.
There he was as gay and as dissolute as ever, but in his inter-
vals of spare time he wrote a refutation of a work by Amelot de la
Houssaye upon the condition of the Republic. He had hoped it
would reinstate him in public opinion, but it failed to do so, and
before long he was denounced to the government as
a spy and
thrown into prison. In the 'Récit de sa Captivité' (1788) he himself
has told the dramatic story of his confinement in the garret of a
ducal palace, and of his wonderful escape. The hot Italian sun beat-
ing down on the leaden roof added to his discomfort, and he was too
daring and too ingenious to suffer long in patience. With the aid of
an iron bolt which he had sharpened, he bored a hole through the
wall of his cell and gained access to another prisoner, Father Balbi.
For a long time they plotted together, and at last after many ef-
forts and dangers they extricated themselves by way of the roofs.
This feat added greatly to his fame. He was fêted and courted
everywhere, and his extravagances set the fashions for years. But in
spite of the admiration he excited, he was too dangerous a citizen to
be allowed long in a place. He was expelled from Varsovia in con-
sequence of a duel.
Then Paris, and later Madrid, drove him away.
His life of excesses had broken his health, when in 1782 he
attached himself to the Count of Waldstein, a German prince whom
he followed into Bohemia. Soon after, he began the famous 'Mem-
oires,' his chief literary achievement. He wrote several historical
works, a translation in verse of the Iliad, and many political sketches.
Others of his writings, such as Eighty Years Spent among the In-
habitants of the Interior of the Globe,' show him possessed of a
lively imagination. But he evinced especial zest in the preparation.
of the 'Memoires. ' In a style as audacious as his life, strong and
sparkling with wit, he told the strange story of his career.
flects the social habits of his time, the contemporary point of view.
He re-
He lived on in Bohemia until he was seventy-eight, and then he
died at Dux, retaining to the end what Janin terms "his marvelous
instinct for vice and corruption. ”


## p. 3323 (#297) ###########################################

CASANOVA
3323
CASANOVA'S ESCAPE FROM THE DUCAL PALACE
From The Escapes of Casanova and Latude from Prison›
THE
HE greatest comfort to a man in suffering is the hope of a
speedy release. He sighs for the moment when he shall
see the end of his woes; he fancies that his wishes can
hasten it on, and would do anything on earth to know what hour
is fixed for the cessation of his misery: but no one can tell at
what moment an event will happen which depends on the deter-
mination of another, unless that person has announced it. But
the sufferer, who is weak and impatient, is predisposed to be
superstitious. "God," says he, "must know the very moment
when my pain will cease; and God may permit that it should
be revealed to me, never mind how. " When he has once fallen
into this train of argument, he no longer hesitates to try his
fortune by any means his fancy may dictate, if he is more or
less inclined to believe in the revelations of the oracle he hap-
pens to select. This frame of mind is not conspicuously unlike
that of the greater number of those who were wont to consult
the Pythia, or the oaks of Dodona, or of those who, even in our
own day, study the Cabbala, or seek the revelation they hope for
in a verse of the Bible or a line of Virgil;-this indeed has made
the Sortes Virgilianæ famous, of which many writers tell us; or
finally, of those who are firmly convinced that their difficulties
will all be solved by the fortuitous or premeditated arrangement
of a mere pack of cards.
I was in this state of mind. But not knowing what means to
employ to compel Fate to reveal through the Bible the end in
store for me that is to say, the hour at which I should recover
the incomparable blessing of liberty-I resolved to consult the
divine poem of Messer Ludovico Ariosto, 'Orlando Furioso,' which
I knew by heart, and in which I delighted up in my cell. I wor-
shiped the genius of that great poet, and thought him far better
fitted than Virgil to tell my fortune. With this idea I wrote
down a question addressed to the imaginary intelligence, asking
in which canto of Ariosto's poem I should find the day of my
deliverance prophesied. Afterwards I composed an inverted pyra-
mid of the numbers derived from the words in the question, and
by subtracting nine from each pair of figures I had nine for a re-
mainder. I concluded that the prophecy I sought must be in the


## p. 3324 (#298) ###########################################

3324
CASANOVA
ninth canto. I pursued the same method to arrive at the line
and stanza containing the oracle, and I found seven as the num-
ber of the stanza, and one for the line.
I took up the poem, my heart beating as though I really had
the most entire confidence in this oracle. I opened it, turned
over the leaves, and read these words:
"Fra il fin d'Ottobre e il capo di Novembre. »
The perfect appropriateness of the line struck me as so remark-
able that, though I cannot say that I altogether believed in the
oracle, the reader will forgive me if I confess I did my utmost
to verify it. The curious part of the matter is, that between
the last of October and the beginning of November there is but
the one instant of midnight; and it was exactly as the clock
struck midnight on the 31st of October that I quitted my prison,
as the reader will presently learn.
The hour strikes. Hark! the angel!
Soradaci was about to fall on his face, but I assured him that
this was superfluous. In three minutes the hole was pierced
through; the board fell at my feet, and Father Balbi slid into
my arms.
"and now mine begins.
"Your task is done," said I,
We embraced, and he gave me my crowbar and a pair of
scissors. I desired Soradaci to trim our beards, but I could not
help laughing as I saw the creature, open-mouthed, staring at
this strange angel, who looked more like a demon. Though
utterly bewildered, he cut our beards to perfection.
Being impatient to survey the locality, I desired the monk to
remain with Soradaci, for I would not leave him alone, and I
went out. I found the hole rather narrow; however, I got
through. I got above the cell in which the Count lay; I went
down and cordially embraced the venerable gentleman. I saw a
a figure il suited to surmount the difficulties of such an
escape over a steep roof covered with sheet lead. He asked me
what my plan was, and told me that he thought I had been
rather heedless in my action.
man
"I only want to go on," said I, "step by step to liberty or
death. "
"If you imagine," said he, "that you can pierce the roof and
find a way along the leads,- from which, too, you must get


## p. 3325 (#299) ###########################################

CASANOVA
3325
down, I do not see how you can possibly succeed unless you
have wings. I have not courage enough to accompany you. I
shall stay where I am and pray to God for you. "
I left him to inspect the outer roof, getting as close as I
could to the outer side of the loft. Having succeeded in touch-
ing the inside of the rafters at the part where it was lowest, I
perched myself on a beam, such as are to be found under the
roof of every large palace. I poked at the rafters with the end
of my bar, and to my joy found them half-rotten; at each touch
the wood fell in dust. Being sure, therefore, that I could make
a large enough opening in less than an hour, I returned to my
cell and spent the next four hours in cutting up sheets, counter-
panes, and mattress covers, to make ropes of. I took care to tie
all the knots myself, to be sure of their firmness, for a single
knot badly tied would have cost us our life. When all was done
I found we had about a hundred yards of rope. There are cer-
tain things in every great enterprise which are of the highest
importance, and for which a leader worthy of the name trusts
no one.
When the rope was finished, I made a bundle of my coat, my
silk cloak, some shirts, stockings, and handkerchiefs, and we all
three went into the Count's cell. This worthy man first con-
gratulated Soradaci on having been so lucky as to be put in the
same room with me, and being so soon enabled to recover his
freedom. The man's stupid amazement almost made me laugh.
I no longer attempted any concealment, for I had thrown off the
mask of Tartuffe, which I had found most inconvenient while
this villain had compelled me to wear it. I saw that he was
convinced I had deceived him, but he could not understand how;
for he could not imagine how I had communicated with the
sham angel so as to make him come and go at fixed hours. He
was listening eagerly to the Count, who declared we were rush-
ing on our fate; and, coward that he was, he was revolving in
his mind a scheme for avoiding the perilous attempt. I told the
monk to collect his things while I went to make the hole in the
roof of the loft.
-
At two hours after sunset the hole was finished; I had
worked the rafters to powder, and the opening was twice as
large as was needful. I could touch the sheet of lead outside.
I could not raise it single-handed, because it was riveted; the
friar helped me, and by pushing the crowbar between the gutter


## p. 3326 (#300) ###########################################

3326
CASANOVA
and the sheet of lead I detached it; then raising it on our shoul-
ders, we bent it up high enough to allow of our squeezing
through the opening. Putting my head out to reconnoitre, I
saw with dismay how bright the moon was, now in the first
quarter. It was a check which we must endure with patience,
and wait till midnight to escape, when the moon would have
gone to light up the Antipodes. On such a glorious night all
Venice would be out on the Piazza below, and we dared not
venture out on the roof; our shadows cast on the ground would
have attracted attention; our extraordinary appearance up there
would excite general curiosity, and above all, that of Messer
Grande and his spies, the sole guards of Venice. Our fine
scheme would soon have been disturbed by their odious interfer-
ence. I therefore decided positively that we were not to creep
out till the moon had set.
It was time to be off. The moon had set. I hung half the
rope round Balbi's neck on one side and his bundle of clothes on
the other shoulder. I did the same for myself; and both, in our
waistcoats with our hats on, went to the opening in the roof.
"And issuing forth we then beheld the stars. " DANTE.
I crept out first; Balbi followed me. Soradaci, who had
accompanied us to the roof, was ordered to pull the sheet of
lead down again and then to go and pray to his saint. Crawling
on my knees on all fours, I clutched my crowbar firmly, and
stretching as far as I could, I slipped it obliquely between the
points of the sheets; then, grasping the end of the sheet I had
turned up, I dragged myself up to the ridge of the roof. The
friar, to follow me, inserted the fingers of his right hand into
the belt of my breeches. Thus I had the double task of a
beast which drags and carries both at once, and that on a steep
roof, made slippery by a dense fog. Half-way up this dreadful
climb, Balbi bid me stop, for one of his parcels had fallen, and
he hoped it might not have gone further than the gutter. My
first impulse was to give him a kick and send him after his
bundle; but God be praised, I had enough self-command not to
do this, for the punishment would have been too severe for both
of us, since I alone could never have escaped. I asked him
whether it was the packet of ropes, but as he replied that it was
only his bundle, in which he had a manuscript he had found in


## p. 3327 (#301) ###########################################

CASANOVA
3327
the loft, and which he had hoped would make his fortune, I told
him he must take patience; for that a step backwards would be
fatal. The poor monk sighed, and clinging still to my waist-
band, we climbed on again.
I
After having got over fifteen or sixteen sheets of lead with
immense difficulty, we reached the ridge, on which I perched
myself astride, and Balbi did the same. We had our backs to
the island of San Giorgio Maggiore, and two hundred yards in
front of us we saw the numerous cupolas of the church of Saint
Mark, which is in fact part of the Ducal Palace; for the church
of Saint Mark is, properly speaking, no more than the Doge's
chapel, and certainly no sovereign can boast of a finer one.
began by relieving myself of my load, and desired my companion
to follow my example. He tucked his bundle of ropes under
him as best he might, but wanting to take off his hat, which
inconvenienced him, he managed so badly that it rolled from
ledge to ledge, and went to join the bundle of clothes in the
canal. My poor comrade was in despair.
"A bad omen!
་
he exclaimed. "Here I am at once without
a shirt, without a hat, and bereft of a precious manuscript con-
taining a most curious and unknown history of the festivals at
the Ducal Palace. "
I, less disposed to be fierce than I had been when I was
climbing, calmly assured him that these two little accidents had
nothing so extraordinary about them as that a superstitious spirit
should regard them as ominous; that I did not think them so,
and that they did not in the least discourage me.
«as
a
"They should serve you, my good fellow," said I,
warning to be prudent and wise, and to suggest to you that God
certainly protects us; for if your hat, instead of tumbling to the
right, had slipped off to the left, we should have been lost. It
would have fallen into the courtyard, where the guards must
have found it, and it would of course have told them that there
must be some one on the roof. We should have been recaptured
at once. "
After sitting some minutes looking about me, I desired the
monk to remain motionless till I should return, and I made my
way forward, shuffling along astride on the roof without any
difficulty, my bolt in my hand.
I spent above an hour going
about the roof, examining and observing every corner, but in
vain; nowhere did I see anything to which I could attach a cord.


## p. 3328 (#302) ###########################################

3328
CASANOVA
I was in the greatest perplexity. I could not for a moment
think of the canal, nor of the palace courtyard, and among the
many cupolas of the church I saw nothing but precipitous walls
leading to no open space. To get beyond the church to the
Canonica I should have had to surmount such steep slopes that I
had no hope of achieving it, and it was natural that I should
reject as impossible everything that did not seem feasible. The
situation in which I found myself required daring, but absolutely
no rashness. It was such a dilemma as I imagine can have no
parallel for difficulty in any moral question.
However, I had to come to some conclusion: I must either
get away or return to my cell, never probably to leave it again;
or again, throw myself into the canal. In this predicament a
great deal must be left to chance, and I must begin somewhere.
I fixed my eyes on a dormer window on the side towards the
canal, and about two-thirds of the way down. It was far enough
from the spot we had started from to make me think that the
loft it lighted was not connected with the prison I had broken
out of. It could light only an attic, inhabited or vacant, over
some room in the palace, where, when day should dawn, the
doors no doubt would be opened. I was morally certain that the
attendants in the palace, even those of the Doge himself, who
should happen to see us, would be eager to favor our escape
rather than place us in the hands of justice, even if they had
recognized us as the greatest of state criminals; so horrible was
the inquisition in their eyes.
With this idea I decided on inspecting that window; so, letting
myself slip gently down, I soon was astride on the little roof.
Then resting my hands on the edge, I stretched my head out
and succeeded in seeing and touching a little barred grating,
behind which there was a window glazed with small panes set
in lead. The window did not trouble me, but the grating, slight
as it was, seemed to me an insurmountable difficulty, for without
a file I could not get through the bars, and I only had my
crowbar. I was checked, and began to lose heart, when a per-
fectly simple and natural incident revived my spirit.
It was the clock of Saint Mark's at this moment striking mid-
night which roused my spirit, and by a sudden shock brought
me out of the perplexed frame of mind in which I found my-
self. That clock reminded me that the morning about to dawn
was that of All Saints' Day; that consequently of my saint's


## p. 3329 (#303) ###########################################

CASANOVA
3329
day if indeed I had a patron saint-and my Jesuit confessor's
prophecy recurred to my mind. But I own that what tended
most to restore my courage, and really increased my physical
powers, was the profaner oracle of my beloved Ariosto:
"Between the end of October and the beginning of November. "
If a great misfortune sometimes makes a small mind devout,
it is almost impossible that superstition should not have some
share in the matter. The sound of the clock seemed to me a
spoken charm which bade me act and promised me success. Ly-
ing flat on the roof with my head over the edge, I pushed my
bar in above the frame which held the grating, determined to
dislodge it bodily. In a quarter of an hour I had succeeded;
the grating was in my hands unbroken, and having laid it by
the side of the dormer I had no difficulty in breaking in the
window, though the blood was flowing from a wound I had
made in my left hand.
―――
By the help of my bar I got back to the ridge of the roof in
the same way as before, and made my way back to where I had
left my companion. I found him desperate and raging; he
abused me foully for having left him there so long. He declared
he was only waiting for seven to strike to go back to prison.
"What did you think had become of me? "
"I thought you had fallen down some roof or wall. "
"And you have no better way of expressing your joy at my
return than by abusing me? »
"What have you been doing all this time? "
"Come with me and you will see. "
Having gathered up my bundles, I made my way back to the
window. When we were just over it I explained to Balbi
exactly what I had done, and consulted him as to how we were
to get into the loft through the window. The thing was quite
easy for one of us; the other could let him down. But I did
not see how the second man was to follow him, as there was no
way of fixing the rope above the window. By going in and
letting myself drop I might break my legs and arms, for I did
not know the height of the window above the floor. To this
wise argument, spoken with perfect friendliness, the brute replied.
in these words: -
"Let me down, at any rate, and when I am in there you will
have plenty of time to find out how you can follow me. "
VI-209


## p. 3330 (#304) ###########################################

CASANOVA
3330
I confess that in my first impulse of indignation I was ready
to stab him with my crowbar. A good genius saved me from
doing so, and I did not even utter one word of reproach for his
selfishness and baseness. On the contrary, I at once unrolled
my bundle of rope, and fastening it firmly under his arm-pits I
made him lie flat on his face, his feet outwards, and then let
him down on to the roof of the dormer. When he was there, I
made him go over the edge and into the window as far as his
hips, leaving his arms on the sill. I next slipped down to the
little roof, as I had done before, lay down on my stomach, and
holding the rope firmly, told the monk to let himself go without
fear. When he had landed on the floor of the attic he undid
the rope, and I, pulling it up, found that the height was above
fifty feet. To jump this was too great a risk. As for the monk,
now he was safe after nearly two hours of anguish on a roof,
where, I must own, his situation was far from comfortable, he
called out to me to throw in the ropes and he would take care
of them. I, as may be supposed, took good care not to follow
this absurd injunction.
Not knowing what to do, and awaiting some inspiration, I
clambered once more to the ridge; and my eye falling on a spot
near a cupola, which I had not yet examined, I made my way
thither. I saw a little terrace or platform covered with lead,
close to a large window closed with shutters. There was here a
tub full of wet mortar with a trowel, and by the side a ladder,
which I thought would be long enough to enable me to get
down into the attic where my comrade was. This settled the
question. I slipped my rope through the top rung, and dragged
this awkward load as far as the window. I then had to get the
clumsy mass into the window; it was above twelve yards long.
The difficulty I had in doing it made me repent of having
deprived myself of Balbi's assistance. I pushed the ladder along
till one end was on the level of the dormer and the other pro-
jected by a third beyond the gutter. Then I slid down on to
the dormer roof; I drew the ladder close to my side and fast-
ened the rope to the eighth rung, after which I again allowed
it to slip till it was parallel with the window. Then I did all
I could to make it slip into the window, but I could not get it
beyond the fifth rung because the end caught against the inner
roof of the dormer, and no power on earth could get it any
further without breaking either the ladder or the roof. There


## p. 3331 (#305) ###########################################

CASANOVA
3331
was nothing for it but to tilt the outer end; then the slope
would allow it to slide in by its own weight. I might have
placed the ladder across the window and have fastened the rope
to it to let myself down, without any risk; but the ladder
would have remained there, and next morning would have guided
the archers and Lorenzo to the spot where we might still be
hiding.
I would not run the risk of losing by such an act of impru-
dence the fruit of so much labor and peril, and to conceal all
our traces the ladder must be got entirely into the window.
Having no one to help me, I decided on getting down to the
gutter to tilt it, and attain my end. This in fact I did, but at
so great a risk that but for a sort of miracle I should have paid
for my daring with my life. I ventured to let go of the cord
that was attached to the ladder without any fear of its falling
into the canal, because it was caught on the gutter by the third
rung. Then, with my crowbar in my hand, I cautiously let
myself slide down to the gutter by the side of the ladder; the
marble ledge was against my toes, for I let myself down with
my face to the roof. In this attitude I found strength enough
to lift the ladder a few inches, and I had the satisfaction of
seeing it go a foot further in. As the reader will understand,
this diminished its weight very perceptibly. What I now wanted
was to get it two feet further in, by lifting it enough; for after
that I felt sure that by climbing up to the roof of the dormer
once more, I could, with the help of the rope, get it all the way
in. To achieve this I raised myself from my knees; but the
force I was obliged to use to succeed made me slip, so that I
suddenly found myself over the edge of the roof as far as my
chest, supported only by my elbows.
It was
an awful moment, which to this day I shudder to
think of, and which it is perhaps impossible to conceive of in all
its horror. The natural instinct of self-preservation made me
almost unconsciously lean with all my weight, supporting myself
on my ribs, and I succeeded-miraculously, I felt inclined to
say. Taking care not to relax my hold, I managed to raise
myself with all the strength of my wrists, leaning at the same
time on my stomach. Happily there was nothing to fear for the
ladder, for the lucky or rather the unlucky-push which had
cost me so dear, had sent it in more than three feet, which
fixed it firmly. Finding myself resting on the gutter literally
___________


## p. 3332 (#306) ###########################################

3332
CASANOVA
on my wrists and my groin, I found that by moving my right
side I could raise first one knee and then the other on to the
parapet. Then I should be safe.
However, my troubles were not yet over, for the strain I
was obliged to exert in order to succeed gave me such a nerv-
ous spasm that a violent attack of painful cramp seemed to
cripple me completely. I did not lose my head, and remained
perfectly still till the spasm was over, knowing that perfect
stillness is the best cure for nervous cramps - I had often
found it so. It was a frightful moment. A few minutes after,
I gradually renewed my efforts. I succeeded in getting my
knees against the gutter, and as soon as I had recovered my
breath I carefully raised the ladder, and at last got it to the
angle where it was parallel with the window. Knowing enough
of the laws of equilibrium and the lever, I now picked up my
crowbar; and climbing in my old fashion, I hauled myself up to
the roof and easily succeeded in tilting in the ladder, which the
monk below received in his arms. I then flung in my clothes,
the ropes and the broken pieces, and got down into the attic,
where Balbi received me very heartily and took care to remove
the ladder.
Arm in arm, we surveyed the dark room in which we found
ourselves; it was thirty paces long by about twenty wide. At
one end we felt a double door formed of iron bars.
This was
unpromising, but laying my hand on the latch in the middle
it yielded to the pressure, and the door opened. We first felt
our way round this fresh room, and then, trying to cross it, ran
up against a table with arm-chairs and stools around it. We
returned to the side where we had felt windows, and having
opened one, by the dim starlight we could see nothing but steep
roofs between domes. I did not for an instant think of escaping
by the window; I must know where I was going, and I did not
recognize the spot where we were. So I closed the window, and
we went back to the first room, where we had left our baggage.
Quite worn out, I let myself drop on to the floor, and putting
a bundle of rope under my head, utterly bereft of all power of
body or of mind, I fell into a sweet sleep. I gave myself up to
it so passively, that even if I had known that death must be the
end of it I could not have resisted it; and I remember distinctly
that the pleasure of that sleep was perfectly delicious.


## p. 3333 (#307) ###########################################

3333
BARTOLOMEO DE LAS CASAS
(1474-1566)
B
ARTOLOMEO DE LAS CASAS, the Apostle of the Indians, was one
of the first to protest by speech and pen against the
hideous cruelties inflicted upon native West Indians by the
invading Spaniards; and he left in his writings the record of a bond-
age compared with which negro slavery was mild. Bartolomeo, the
son of Antonio de las Casas, a companion of Columbus on his first
voyage of discovery, was born in Seville in 1474.
While yet a

BARTOLOMEO DE LAS CASAS
student at the University of Salamanca he became interested in the
natives, through a young Indian whom he owned as slave. He first
visited the New World as one of the followers of Columbus in 149-,
returning after some years with Nicholas de Ovando, the governor of
the Indies. Here his sympathies were fully aroused, as he witnessed
the savage treatment of the simple natives and the incessant
butcheries and slavery in the mines, which were rapidly depopulating
the islands. In 1510 he took holy orders, being probably the first
priest ordained in the New World.
Las Casas at first was himself a slave-owner, willing to enrich
himself by the toil of the red men, though from the very beginning


## p. 3334 (#308) ###########################################

3334
BARTOLOMEO DE LAS CASAS
he sympathized with their sufferings. But a sudden illumination
came to him as he was preparing to preach a sermon on the Feast
of Pentecost, in 1514, taking for his text the 34th chapter of Ecclesi-
asticus, verses 18 to 22. He awoke to the iniquity of slavery, set
free his own Indians, and for forty years thereafter devoted himself
heart and soul to the interests of the red men. It was at times a
bitter task and made him many enemies among the invaders, who
thought themselves curtailed in their natural rights as the superior
race. Happily for his cause, Las Casas had powerful friends in
Spain, chief among whom was the Emperor Charles V. The good
priest crossed the ocean a dozen times to see that monarch on
Indian affairs, following him even into Germany and Austria. Finally
in 1547, when past his seventieth year, he settled down in Valladolid,
in Spain, but still wrote and talked in behalf of the oppressed race.
While on an errand for them to Madrid in 1566, he died at the ripe
age of ninety-two, with bodily faculties unimpaired.
The earliest work of Las Casas, 'A Very Short Account of the
Ruin of the Indies,' written in 1542, first disclosed to Europe the
cruelties practiced beyond the sea. It was frequently reprinted, and
made a great impression. Other short treatises followed, equally
powerful and effective. They were collected in 1552 and translated
into several languages. His chief work however is a General His-
tory of the Indies,' from 1492 to 1520, begun by him in 1527, un-
finished in 1561. He ordered that no portion should be printed until
forty years after his death, but it remained in manuscript for three
hundred years, being published at Madrid in 1875. It has been
called the corner-stone of the history of the American continent.
Las Casas possessed important documents, among them the papers
of Columbus, now lost. In his long life, moreover, he knew many
of the early discoverers and many statesmen, as Columbus, Cortes,
Ximenes, Pizarro, Gattinora, and he was the contemporary of three
sovereigns interested in the West Indies,- King Ferdinand the Cath-
olic, the Emperor Charles V. , and King Philip II. of Spain.
Las Casas is sometimes taxed with having brought negro slavery
into America. In his profound compassion for the Indians he main-
tained that the negroes were better fitted for slave labor than the
more delicate natives. But the Portuguese had imported African
slaves into the colonies long before Las Casas suggested it, while he
in time renounced his error, and frankly confesses it in his history.
He was a large-hearted, large-brained man, unprejudiced in an age
of bigotry; of unwearied industry and remarkable powers of physical
endurance that enabled him to live a life of many-sided activities, as
priest and missionary, colonist, man of business, and man of letters.
As a historian he was a keen observer of men and of nature, and


## p. 3335 (#309) ###########################################

BARTOLOMEO DE LAS CASAS
3335
chronicled with great exactness the social and physical conditions of
the countries he traversed. His merits are summed up in the follow-
ing words by John Fiske, in his 'Discovery of America': —
"He was one of the best historians of his time, and wrote a most attractive
Spanish style, quaint, pithy, and nervous,-
‚—a style which goes straight to the
mark and rings like true metal. I do not mean to be understood as calling
it a literary style. It is not graceful like that of great masters of expression
such as Pascal or Voltaire. It is not seldom cumbrous and awkward, usually
through trying to say too much at once. But in spite of this it is far more
attractive than many a truly artistic literary style. There is a great charm in
reading what comes from a man brimful of knowledge and utterly unselfish
and honest. The crisp shrewdness, the gleams of gentle humor and occasional
sharp flashes of wit, and the fervid earnestness, in the books of Las Casas,
combine to make them very delightful. It was the unfailing sense of humor,
which is so often wanting in reformers, that kept Las Casas from devel-
oping into a fanatic. . . . In contemplating such a life as that of Las
Casas, all words of eulogy seem weak and frivolous. The historian can only
bow in reverent awe before a figure which is in some respects the most
beautiful and sublime in the annals of Christianity since the Apostolic age.
When now and then in the course of the centuries God's providence brings
such a life into this world, the memory of it must be cherished by mankind
as one of its most precious and sacred possessions. For the thoughts, the
words, the deeds of such men there is no death; the sphere of their influ-
ence goes on widening forever. They bud, they blossom, they bear fruit,
from age to age. "
OF THE ISLAND OF CUBA
From A Relation of the First Voyage'
HE Spaniards passed, in the year 1511, into the Island of
Cuba, contains as much ground in length as from
Valladolid to Rome. There were formerly fine and flour-
ishing provinces to be seen, filled with vast numbers of people,
who met with no milder or kinder treatment from the Spaniards
than the rest. On the contrary, they seemed to have redoubled
their cruelty upon those people. There happened divers things.
in this island that deserve to be remarked. A rich and potent
Cacique named Hatbuey was retired to the Island of Cuba to
avoid that slavery and death with which the Spaniards menaced
him; and being informed that his persecutors were upon the point
of landing in this island, he assembled all his subjects and
domestics together, and made a speech to 'em after this man-
ner: "You know," said he, "the report that is spread abroad


## p. 3336 (#310) ###########################################

3336
BARTOLOMEO DE LAS CASAS
that the Spaniards are ready to invade this island; and you are
not ignorant of the ill usage our friends and countrymen have
met with at their hands, and the cruelties they have committed
at Hayei. " (So Hispaniola is called in their language. ) "They
are now coming hither with a design to exercise the same out-
rages and persecutions upon us. Are you ignorant," says he,
"of the ill intentions of the people of whom I am speaking?
"We know not," say they all with one voice, "upon what
account they come hither, but we know they are a very wicked
and cruel people. " "I'll tell you then," replied the Cacique,
"that these Europeans worship a very covetous sort of god, so
that 'tis difficult to satisfy him; and to perform the worship they
render to this idol, they'll exact immense treasures of us, and
will use their utmost endeavor to reduce us to a miserable state
of slavery, or else to put us to death. " Upon which he took a
box full of gold and valuable jewels which he had with him; and
exposing it to their view,-"Here is,” says he, "the god of the
Spaniards, whom we must honor with our sports and dances, to
see if we can appease him, and render him propitious to us, that
so he may command the Spaniards not to offer us any injury. "
They all applauded this speech, and fell a-leaping and dancing
round the box, till they had quite tired and spent themselves.
After which the Cacique Hatbuey, resuming his discourse, con-
tinued to speak to them in these terms: "If we keep this God,"
says he, "till he's taken away from us, he'll certainly cause our
lives to be taken from us; and therefore I am of the opinion
'twill be the best way to cast him into the river. " They all
approved of this advice, and went all together with one accord to
throw this pretended god into the river.
The Spaniards were no sooner arrived in the Isle of Cuba but
this Cacique, who knew 'em too well, began to think of retreat-
ing to secure himself from their fury, and resolved to defend
himself by force of arms if he should happen to meet with them;
but he unfortunately fell into their hands; and because he had
taken all the precautions he could to avoid the persecutions of so
cruel and impious a people, and had taken arms to defend his
own life, as well as the lives of his subjects, this was made a
capital crime in him, for he was burned alive. While he was in
the midst of the flames, tied to a stake, a certain Franciscan
friar of great piety and virtue took upon him to speak to him of
God and our religion, and to explain to him some articles of the


## p. 3337 (#311) ###########################################

BARTOLOMEO DE LAS CASAS
3337
Catholic faith, of which he had never heard a word before; prom-
ising him eternal life if he would believe, and threatening him
with eternal torment if he continued obstinate in his infidelity.
Hatbuey, reflecting on the matter as much as the place and con-
dition in which he was would permit, asked the friar that in-
structed him whether the gate of heaven was opened to the
Spaniards; and being answered that such of them as were good
men might hope for entrance there, the Cacique without any
further deliberation told him he had no mind to go to heaven,
for fear of meeting with such cruel and wicked company as they
were; but would much rather choose to go to hell, where he
might be delivered from the troublesome sight of such kind of
people to so great a degree have the wicked actions and cruel-
ties of the Spaniards dishonored God and his religion in the
minds of the Americans.
One day there came to us a great number of the inhabitants
of a famous city, situate about ten leagues from the place where
we lodged, to compliment us and bring us all sort of provisions
and refreshments, which they presented us with great marks of
joy, caressing us after the most obliging manner they could.
But that evil spirit that possessed the Spaniards put 'em into
such a sudden fury against 'em, that they fell upon 'em and
massacred above three thousand of 'em, both men and women,
upon the spot, without having received the least offense and
provocation from 'em. I was an eye-witness of this barbarity:
and whatever endeavors were used to appease these inhuman
creatures, 'twas impossible to reduce 'em to reason; so resolutely
were they bent to satiate their brutal rage by this barbarous
action.
Soon after this I sent messengers to the most noted Indians
of the Province of Havane, to encourage and engage 'em to con-
tinue in their country, and not to trouble themselves to seek
remote places to hide in; and advised 'em to come to us with
assurance of our protection. They knew well enough what au-
thority I had over the Spaniards, and I gave 'em my word no
injury should be offered 'em: for the past cruelties and massacres
their countrymen had suffered, had spread fear and terror through
all the country; and this assurance I gave 'em was with the
consent and advice of the captains and the officers. When we
entered into this province, two-and-twenty of their chiefs came
to us, and the very next morning the commander of our troops,


## p. 3338 (#312) ###########################################

3338
BARTOLOMEO DE LAS CASAS
without any regard to the promise that had been made 'em,
would needs sentence 'em to be burnt, pretending 'twas best to
put these people to death, because they might one time or other
use some stratagem to surprise and destroy us: and I had all the
difficulty in the world to prevent 'em from throwing 'em into
the fire.
The Indians of Havane, seeing themselves reduced to a state
of severe slavery, and that there was no remedy left, but they
were irrecoverably undone, began to take refuge in the deserts
and mountains to secure themselves if possible from death;
some strangled themselves in despair. Parents hanged them-
selves together with their children, to put the speedier end to
their misery by death. Above two hundred Indians perished
here after this manner to avoid the cruelty of the Spaniards, and
abundance of them afterwards voluntarily condemned themselves
to this kind of death, hoping thus in a moment to put a period
to the miseries their persecutors inflicted on 'em.
A certain Spaniard, who had the title of Sovereign in this
island and had three hundred Indians in his service, destroyed a
hundred and sixty of them in less than three months by the
excessive labor he continually exacted of them. The recruits he
took to fill up their places were destroyed after the same man-
ner; and he would in a short time have unpeopled the whole
island if death, which took him out of the way, very happily for
those poor wretches, had not sheltered 'em from his cruelties. I
saw with my own eyes above six thousand children die in the
space of three or four months, their parents being forced to
abandon 'em, being condemned to the mines. After this the
Spaniards took up a resolution to pursue those Indians that were
retired into the mountains, and massacred multitudes of 'em;
so that this island was depopulated and laid waste in a very
little time. And it is a most lamentable spectacle to see so fine
a country thus miserably ruined and unpeopled.


## p. 3339 (#313) ###########################################

3339
BALDASSARE CASTIGLIONE
(1478-1529)
HE interest to be found in the literary work of "il conte Bal-
dassare Castiglione "-in the one prose volume he wrote,
'Il Cortegiano' (The Courtier) - arises not only from the
historical value it now has, but from its representing the charming
character of a gentleman. And it does this not merely by inten-
tionally describing the ideal gentleman of the fifteenth century, but
by unconsciously revealing the character of its author. Castiglione
was himself distinctively a gentleman. Without eminent abilities or
position, his life unmarked by any remark-
able deeds or any striking events, he yet
deserves remembrance as making vivid to
us those admirable qualities and conditions
which are the result, in individuals, of the
long moral and intellectual cultivation of a
large group of men and women.
CASTIGLIONE
He was one of the group that made fa-
mous the court of Urbino, not at the time
of its greatest glory under Duke Frederic
II. , but just afterward, when the duchy
was ruled by Frederic's son Guidobaldo-
an estimable invalid-and the court was
presided over by Guidobaldo's wife, the
much beloved and admired Duchess Elisabetta, one of the great Gon-
zaga family. Castiglione's own sketch of this court (see translation
below) renders any other delineation of it supererogatory; but his
silence regarding himself personally makes it necessary to gather
knowledge of his life from other sources. His person is made known
to us by Raffael's interesting portrait of him, now in the Louvre,
painted in 1515. It is a portrait by a friend. Raffael was only five
years younger than Castiglione, and their affectionate relations were
of long standing.

Castiglione was the son of a valorous soldier who fought by the
side of the Marquis Francesco Gonzaga of Mantua, but his early youth
was spent not at Mantua but at Milan, where he received from famous
scholars - Demetrio Calcondile and his peers-a brilliant classical
education, rather than the training one would look for in his father's
son. His father's death in 1494 obliged him, in those troublous times,
-


## p. 3340 (#314) ###########################################

3340
BALDASSARE CASTIGLIONE
to seek a protector. As his mother was distantly connected with his
father's friends, the rulers of Mantua, it was to them that his eyes
turned, and in 1499 he was one of the suite of the Marquis on the
occasion of the triumphal entrance of Louis XII. of France into Milan
after his conquest in three weeks of the duchy; a triumph followed
by the hideous ten-years' "caging" of Lodovico il Moro, Milan's duke.
Such spectacles as this triumph and this imprisonment, which the
boy of twenty-one now beheld, were to be familiar to him all his life.
The king-like pope Alexander VI. and his son Cæsar Borgia, the war-
rior Julius II. , the Medici Leo X. , the soon-dead Adrian VI. , and
the irresolute Clement VII.